


Christmas in Kirkwall

by Nasserwraith



Series: The White Hart - Dragon Age Series [3]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Christmas Smut, Dragon Age Lore, Elf/Human Relationship(s), First Christmas, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Pre-Dragon Age: Inquisition, Top Fenris (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:35:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21781039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nasserwraith/pseuds/Nasserwraith
Summary: Hawke and Fenris have returned to Kirkwall and will, at last, be spending their first holiday together. Fenris has never gotten gifts before, however, and he certainly wasn't expecting this one!Continues the story and relationship established in "Picked-Up Pieces" and "Stranger Places."(This is my gift to all of you! A little sugar and a little spice to put in your stocking. Happy Holidays! - Nas)
Relationships: Fenris & Male Hawke, Fenris/Male Hawke
Series: The White Hart - Dragon Age Series [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1462372
Comments: 6
Kudos: 47





	Christmas in Kirkwall

**Christmas in Kirkwall**

_Dearest Hawke and Fenris,_

_It hardly seems like half a year has passed and yet the snow is already falling in the Marches. I had heard, however, that the both of you have finally returned to Kirkwall. I’m not surprised it took longer than you might have expected. The Kirinae caravans are well known for their hospitality and having returned with Lyric, Alcuin, and Aurvandil, I highly doubted they would be letting either of you out without some sort of lengthy celebration. Not to worry about me though. I am well. My search has been fruitful, to say the least, and every day I am discovering more things about myself in the stranger places of the world. Bodkin is also well. As much as he ever is anyway but I am starting to think he might be better off at some quaint farm rather than in my company. He seems more, how shall I say, sedentary, than befits the wanderings and myriad minor adventures of a Caravani._

 _Speaking of which, there is something going on north of you, near the mountainous regions. Word regarding the formation of an Inquisition has reached me here, thanks to my tragically infrequent correspondence with Varric. He speaks of a Herald of Andraste and other such curiosity brewing. I mean, granted, these are tales from Varric of which I am speaking, of course, but you may need to investigate the matter further. I, however, must continue on. Something still calls to me and I know not yet where I may end up. But know that I am thinking of the both of you on this blessed coming of Winternight and hope that your holidays are spent in respite._

_Sincerely,  
Mariner_

_P.S. Fenris. I have enclosed something that might be of interest to you._

“Well?” Fenris started, almost as soon as Hawke had finished reading aloud the letter.

“It’s a…an…ornament? I think?” Liam Hawke held aloft the small crystal fragment dangling, as it was, from a satin ribbon tied to a golden ring affixed at its tip.

“An ornament.” Fenris deadpanned in response. “For the Winternight Tree, I assume. But…why would Mariner think it would be of interest to me? I like the Wintersend holidays well enough, I suppose, but it holds no particular meaning for me. If my family celebrated it in Tevinter, I don’t remember it.”

Hawke stared down at the clear shard and shrugged. “It’s pretty. Maybe he just wanted you to have something pretty.”

With a measure of consternation, Fenris stepped forward and plucked the object from the mage’s hand so he could hold it up to the light. It was a beautiful piece, actually. Sharp edges and angular faces reflecting the evening light into prismatic color patterns all the while dapples of magenta and blue mixed with the white slivers moving across the floor.

“Why do we have a Winternight tree, Hawke?” Fenris finally looked up from the ornament to regard his lover’s amused smile.

“Because!” The mage threw up his hands as he paced around the sitting room. “It wasn’t hard to figure out that you’ve never had a proper holiday before and now that we’re back home, and you’re finally living here and not in that horrible, run-down, mansion on the high road, I thought you’d like it. Besides…how else was I going to be able to give you your presents?”

Fenris was actually rather taken aback by the last part. “Presents?”

“Yes, Fen. Presents!” Hawke said, rolling his eyes slightly. “As in, under the tree, with all the lights, and the decorations, and the cake!”

Fenris didn’t seem at all fazed at his sarcastic tone, and stayed rather focused on the topic. “You got me…. a present?”

Hawke had done far more than simply get his companion and mate a present. He’d spent nearly three days decorating the entirety of the Hawke-Arnell Estate in wintergreen garlands, mistletoe sprigs with pine cones and holly, fragrant pine logs for the hearths in every room, and the largest Winternight tree he could find. He’d even managed to find most of his uncle’s ornament boxes and had festooned said tree in tiny hooded candles, glass baubles, and those miniature fake birds made of feathers and birch bark. Even now, in the soft glow of the firelight and beeswax candle flames, the entire room had an atmosphere of magic. Just not the kind Hawke had to conjure up with his words or his will. Even Fenris had, ultimately, not been immune to its effects.

“Of course, I got you a present, Fen. More than one.”

“Oh.” Was the wide-eyed reply.

“And…also…well…since this is as good a time as any and I’ve been trying to find the right time to ask you about something…” Hawke fumbled with his words slightly before digging through his pocket to produce an oddly familiar wooden compact which balanced on his palm as he held it up.

Fenris took a horrified step back. “Is that what I think it is?!”

“Yeah.” Hawke replied with a slump. “It’s the Serenic jar Varric gave me to pull off the whole slaver act when we crashed Ravenica’s party.” He then noted the posture of revulsion that had overtaken Fenris’ demeanor. “No! It’s not what you’re thinking, Fen! I’d completely forgotten about it after we escaped the estate. I found it in my pocket a couple of days ago. I had actually meant to give it to Mariner after things settled down. Figured he’d have a better idea what to do with it but…well…”

“Well what?”

“ _Well._ Thing is, every time I try to decide how I should deal with it…I just…can’t. First, I thought I should destroy it but then that seemed weirdly disrespectful. I don’t know what happened to the two elves who made this but I imagine it ended badly and it’s technically the only real evidence, the only real memorial I guess, to what they went through. So, then I thought maybe I should bury it or give it to a consecrated cemetery or something but I realized I actually have no idea if elves honor their dead like that. Presuming they’re even dead, of course. After that I just started to think I should shove it in a drawer somewhere but that’s even less…. respectful. I don’t know, Fen. I guess, in the end…I think an elf should make this decision. That’s why I’ve been hanging on to it, even though I really don’t want anything to do with it.”

He held the Serenic out towards Fenris. But his lover seemed torn. On the one hand, he never wanted to see or think about Serenic or Gallio Ravenica or the enslavement of the _ashvani_ ever again. On the other, he understood Hawke’s predicament. It was like an odd sort of memorial. A testament to the deprivation of mages and magisters who would exploit anyone and everyone until death to get what they wanted. It was an ironic gift, really. The gift of deciding the fate of an effigy that represented something of Fenris’ own past as well as the adventures he and Hawke had shared.

Fenris approached slowly and, with a stern scowl, took the compact from Hawke’s hand. He studied it for a moment. Thinking back on all that had transpired after their flight from Kirkwall. Meeting Mariner. Encountering the Tevinter magister, Ravenica. Being captured, and then finally, being freed again; along with the Elusivir _ashvani_ they’d ended up spending several following weeks with on their return to the northern villages. And then, at last, coming home to Kirkwall; wherein Hawke had gone to great lengths to ensure that Fenris would remain as close to him as possible. Which meant living in the Hawke-Arnell estate and not, as the mage often feared, that Fenris would eventually wander back to the broken-down old mansion where he’d spent his first several years after escaping Danarius. Good thing Aveline had burned it down (Or, Fenris was reasonably convinced it had been her anyway).

The elf then smiled as he recalled the last time they’d had a conversation like this; also before a fire, in a dingy room above the Amaranthine Merchant’s Guild, right after Hawke had successfully burnt up a pair of truly smashing striped tights. Fenris looked up and met Hawke’s pensive gaze, still rolling the smooth, wooden, container between his fingers and his palm. He knew what he wanted to do.

With a flick of his wrist, the Serenic arched gracefully into the air, past Hawke, and into the fireplace; where it landed flat onto the central ash pile in a shower of sparks. Within seconds, it was consumed; balm, jar, and clasp, leaving only a sooty shadow in its place.

“I see.” Hawke said, thoughtfully stroking his beard. He’d finally let it grow in at Fenris’ encouragement. Apparently, his lover like him this way, though he had not ever quite explained why.

“A strange Winternight present.” Fenris finally broke the silence. “But…thank you, Hawke. I appreciate what it meant.”

“Hmm? Oh, that wasn’t your present. That was just…. something that had been weighing on my mind.”

“It…wasn’t?”

Hawke raised his eyebrow incredulously. “No, Fenris. But, since we’re on the subject…would you like your present?”

“It isn’t Winternight yet.”

The mage chuffed and motioned towards the tree. “No. But it’s tradition to open one present the evening before, you know? When Bethany and Carver were little, our parents used to have us pick out one present from under the tree that each of us could open. Supposedly, it was the most meaningful of the gifts you were getting but, when you’re a kid, you usually just grabbed the biggest one. Same difference, really.” Hawke’s eyes crinkled at the corners and he smiled again, if distantly.

“I…don’t have one to choose for you, Hawke. I’m sorry I…”

“Shush.” Hawke replied with a casual wave of his hand. “I already know that. That’s why I…well…I kinda got one for both of us. For tonight, I mean.”

“I don’t follow.” Fenris tilted his head.

With a sigh, Hawke knelt down to the base of the tree and shuffled the small heap of boxes around until he managed to find one in particular: a small package, wrapped in blue paper, and tied with a white ribbon. He then stood up, crossed the room, and motioned for Fenris to join him in front of the hearth. As he did so, Fenris noted, with a growing sense of curiosity, that Hawke appeared a little flustered, almost unsure of himself. As though the gift he now held was something he wasn’t confident Fenris was going to like. An absurd thought, Fenris found himself commenting internally. Hawke had gotten _him_ a gift, on a night that was special to him and to his family. It didn’t really matter what it was.

Hawke held the box straight out. “Ok. Open it.”

As Fenris carefully peeled back the wrappings; handling the balsa wood box as though it would shatter at any minute, Hawke’s smile only got broader, until it nearly overtook his entire face. When Fenris finally opened the top of the box, however, Hawke’s giddiness was juxtaposed against a confused frown. With tentative fingers, the elf reached into the small nest of tangled dry-grass packing and produced a glass bottle filled with some kind of clear oil. He stared at it; trying to parse out what is was meant for but, honestly, he could only come up with one thing. The obvious.

“Don’t we already…have some of this?”

Hawke nearly burst out laughing. Yes, he did, of course, have a supply of their preferred sandalwood oil; the kind he always used with Fenris whenever they made love. But this was not the same thing exactly; a favorite blend of his that was meant for something a little different.

“It’s not for you, Fen. It’s for _me_.”

Again, Fenris did not quite catch the subtle innuendo in Hawke’s words right away. In fact, he was about to ask why Hawke would give him something if it was actually meant for himself when the light finally went on. He looked back up at the mage, stunned.

“That’s what I wanted to give you.” Hawke answered the look with a gentle tone and a shrug. “Me.”

“I…” Fenris remained at a loss for words.

“I mean, if you want to, that is.” The mage continued. “I just thought that…I mean…A couple of times you’ve mentioned…”

“Thank you, Hawke.”

The softly murmured words were enough to silence the rest of Hawke’s rambling. He chanced another look at Fenris; who merely stood before the crackling fireplace, gazing down at the glittering glass in his right hand as he carefully laid the crystal ornament in his left onto the table next to the tree. When the elf returned the look, it caused the mage’s heart to catch in his throat. It was such rare occasions for Fenris to look so openly…happy. His expression genuinely delightful.

It then seemed as good a time as any for Hawke to pull Fenris into a kiss and when the elf went willingly, the mage couldn’t help but grin through the first few gentle nips. Fenris had been growing so much more confident in their affections in just the last few months alone such that Hawke was now reasonably certain he was ready to push his boundaries again a little further. And he’d be lying if he were to say that he hadn’t been looking forward to this. 

Fenris shivered when warm hands snuck beneath the hem of his shirt but mentally, he balked a little. The thought of being the one to take Hawke had always been exciting. His lover was usually the one so in control, having complete command of their intimacy and helping to guide Fenris through the unfamiliar or potentially more sensitive aspects. Fenris had, of course, allowed Hawke to remain the more dominant partner because, if he was being honest with himself, it felt safer and he’d grown to love the protected and cherished feelings the mage instilled in him whenever they were together. But as he’d been given the space to explore his own desire, sheltered in Hawke’s care, he’d lately found that his interests were more expansive than he ever thought they would be. Indeed, he had wanted to try this for a while. But now that the offer was actually on the table, it was a little mortifying and Fenris hadn’t felt so unsure of himself in a long time.

What if he wasn’t any good? After all, if he had ever taken someone else in the past, he had no current memory of it. What if he was just clumsy or came off as amateurish or Hawke just didn’t enjoy it? What if he couldn’t give him the kind of pleasure he wanted? What if he accidentally hurt his lover? 

As he almost always did, the mage seemed to clue in on Fenris’ unspoken distress.

“Hey.” Hawke called softly into Fenris’ ear. “It’s ok, Fen. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Right?”

Fenris nodded but soon tensed in surprise when he was pulled forward and back into a passionate kiss, his knees weakening with desire as his mouth was plundered with abandon. By the time Hawke released him again, he was breathing hard and was more than a little dazed. The fact that Hawke could render him senseless like that with just a kiss, disarm all his defenses so easily, and swallow all his complaints was both wonderful and aggravating. But then Hawke started to undress him.

“Hawke, wait…I…”

The mage paused, looking back up at his lover with mild concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I mean…we’re standing in the middle of the living room.”

Hawke made a show of looking around himself with a slight air of amusement. “So we are. And there’s a nice fire going, a few thick rugs on the floor, the smell of evergreen in the air…”

“You…. you want to make love…in front of the Winternight tree?”

“Too cheesy?” Hawke asked with a chuckle.

“I…no.” Fenris finally replied but then his face fell. “I just…don’t think I really know what I’m doing.”

Hawke smiled. “It’s fine, Fen. Just follow my lead, ok?”

With a leading tug, the mage brought him over to where they could both sit down more comfortably, on several layers of plush wool and woven cotton. The lights of the tree twinkled and glowed all around them, and on the far side of the room, where neither of them could see it clearly anymore, the delicate piece of crystal on the thin ribbon began to sparkle with its own rich illumination.

Even though he had his eyes closed, Fenris could feel each kiss on his neck, moving down to his collarbone, and onto his chest. His shirt was gone and then the simple leather belt was undone. His leggings followed along with the fleece-lined footwraps he’d recently started using. The feel of Hawke’s shoulders and torso against him told him that the mage had already cast off his own clothing as well and was continuing to make quick work of their small-clothes. Uncharacteristically, Fenris found himself still smiling. It was little more than a coy upturning of the corners of his mouth but it certainly wasn’t going unnoticed. Hawke dipped his head up to tease at the elf’s bottom lip for a few seconds before making his way back down his lover’s body.

The lyrium lines on Fenris’ sides began to shimmer with the mage’s touch. It was something that Hawke had noted tended to happen when his lover was especially amorous or whenever he was feeling nervous. His brain, of course, immediately started making terrible jokes about Fenris-themed Winternight decorations best kept to himself (If any of you mention Elf on the Shelf, I will curse you from afar!). But it was nice to see Fenris so content.

Hawke’s breath on his thigh made him shudder. It was pretty clear where the mage was going with this, however. So, when the heat of his mouth took him in, Fenris merely let out a pleased gasp. It was easy then to flex his arms and press his elbows into the rug so that he could lie back and enjoy his lover’s attention with a measure of stability. But the knowledge of what was imminently planned still weighed on him and though he was quickly hardening in his lover’s mouth, Fenris could feel the twinge of nerves still fluttering through his stomach.

"It’s alright. Relax." Hawke murmured as his hands gently caressed the tender skin of Fenris’ inner thighs. "You’re just making yourself tense. Close your eyes and breath. I’ll take care of the rest."

Fenris didn't answer, but did as Hawke instructed and took a few slow breaths, trying to ignore the doubts creeping into his mind in favor of staying in the present moment and concentrating on the sensations the mage was deftly supplying him with. Thankfully, his thoughts began to trail away as he was able to finally let himself just feel; one hand moving to rest on Hawke’s hair as he felt that wonderful tongue tease him into full hardness. Fenris groaned as Hawke then pulled back to suckle on the head of his cock, his tongue flicking over the slit and teasing it gently before he resumed sucking on the full length of him.

When Hawke suddenly stopped a few minutes later, Fenris couldn't hold back a disappointed growl. The sound had the mage chuckling however, and just as Fenris looked down to comment on how much he wanted his lover to continue doing that, he observed him picking up the gifted bottle and pulling the stopper. A scent like elfroot filled the air, but it was more herbal than Fenris remembered it smelling, more floral and less woody. 

“It’s made with Royal Elfroot and extract of Crystal Grace. Here, put a little on your hand.”

“It’s…it’s…hot!”

“It’s warming oil. It reacts to the salt on your skin and heats up.”

Fenris stared at his fingertips, as though he might discern some mystical trickery from the soft sheen slowly spreading to his palm. It tingled and made his hand feel as though he’d been holding it over the coals for several minutes. “Won’t it hurt?”

Hawke laughed. “Not _that_ hot, Fen. This stuff’s hard to come by these days, though. Took me weeks to find a merchant with the right connections. I thought it could be fun to have a few firsts tonight, if you know what I mean.”

Fenris nodded. “How do you want to…I mean…would you like to…”

Hawke smirked and stopped him there. “The first thing I want you to do,” he tipped out an additional amount of the oil onto Fenris’ hand. “Is to touch yourself. I want to watch you while I prepare myself for you.”

This was new.

“Are you sure? It’s fine, Hawke, I can…”

“Another time. Tonight, I want to do this for you. You did it for me once and it was the hottest thing I think I’ve ever seen. Returning the favor. That’s what you said, right?”

Fenris felt a pinch of shyness at his words. He remembered the first, and really only, time he’d given Hawke something of a show. It was the second time they’d ever been together when Fenris had demonstrated for Hawke just how much he had wanted him and had been fantasizing about him. When he had prepared his own body to receive his lover. Hawke had obviously enjoyed every part of that evening but that had been especially memorable, apparently.

With Hawke’s encouragement, Fenris once again relaxed back before taking himself in hand, slowly stroking as he watched the mage kneel down in front of him.

“Perfect. Just like that.”

Fenris blushed slightly but didn’t break eye contact.

Coating his hand rather liberally with the fragrant oil, Hawke then kicked his legs out onto the rug and set to work. From Fenris’ point of view, it was utterly enticing to watch. Hawke took his time; first caressing his own need until he was hard and then sliding down to tease and stretch his entrance. The oil was clearly having its intended effect because his breath began to hitch pleasurably with each new exploration. Unfortunately, it had been, to put it mildly, a very long time since the mage had performed this particular act, which meant that it was slow going. He wasn’t used to the feelings at all and his body initially rejected the superficial penetration of his fingers with a spasm of pain. But he also remembered how much he had enjoyed this in the past and wanted to share the experience with Fenris now. He pushed past the initial discomfort and continued, letting the increasing heat soothe the anticipated aches and protests.

Unknowingly, Fenris had become so distracted with observing every little motion and expression Hawke was experiencing, he’d stopped touching himself entirely; his hand resting on his abdomen as Hawke tensed and relaxed, shifted and moaned. He seemed to be searching for something; just the right angle, just the right grip, and then he stiffened, his breath coming out in a rush. Evidently, he’d found it.

Fenris lay still and watched him, waiting for Hawke’s indication that he should respond. When he did, it was to finally beckon his lover closer. 

Fenris approached carefully, almost hesitantly, but when the mage leaned into his touch, the familiarity of his lover’s presence chased all but the most tenacious of his doubts away. Fenris then smoothed his hands over the other’s hips, and then to his waist, along his ribs, and over the rise of his pectorals. He dipped his mouth to trace a line from his sternum to his neck, ending up in an affectionate nuzzle just below Hawke’s right ear. When the mage parted his thighs to hook his legs around Fenris’ waist however, it gave the elf pause.

“Easy as can be.” Hawke whispered, bringing his hands up to knead into Fenris’ lower back.

The mage lay still and watched him, waiting for Fenris to touch him again. Any moment now. Just another second. Or not....

Hawke glanced up, slightly concerned that he would be met with reluctance or fear. But instead, Fenris was simply looking down at him, as though contemplating some indescribable mystery. To the mage’s astonishment, the elf suddenly drew his slickened palm over his thigh, eyes never leaving his. His hand slid down and--

Hawke let out a rather undignified squeak, lifting his hips up eagerly.

Maker, he was tight, but Fenris quickly chided himself on his own surprise. Of course, he would be. They’d never lain together like this before. In response, Fenris moved carefully, letting his lover become used to the feeling of being touched in this manner before using his knees to nudge Hawke’s thighs further apart. This was all very new territory for the elf, but he was thankful that he could, in a number of ways, take an example from all the previous encounters they’d had. Hawke had always been kind to him and had taken the time to learn what pleasured his elven lover best, even when Fenris hadn’t been sure exactly what that meant for himself. Now, he vowed to do the same in return. A few more insistent presses followed before Fenris pulled his hand away and settled between the strong legs.

"Hawke?"

"Mmmhm?"

"If…if something isn’t right, I want you to promise that you will tell me." His voice wavered slightly but he kept calm.

Hawke nodded but smiled up at Fenris reassuringly. “I will. But I know how you are and I don’t want you to be worried the whole time. I want this, Fen. So, don’t get all caught up in your head either, alright? Stay here. With me.”

Fenris didn't answer, but leaned down and kissed him softly, angling up, and then - Oh, sweet divines...

Fenris bit Hawke's lip without meaning to, tasting the tang of blood on his tongue.

Hawke moaned in response. The sharp sting to his mouth and the feeling of his lover firmly sliding inside of him was a potent combination and he’d forgotten just how responsive to this he had once been. It was all he could do not to grab ahold of the elf’s backside so as to force him into an immediate rhythm. 

Fenris was equally incoherent. It was so completely different being on top and he hadn’t expected the heat and the constriction to set him off in such a feral manner. It was so tense and tight, and yet Hawke was also still holding him tenderly. It was enticing his baser instincts in the absolute worst way. But he still didn’t want to hurt the mage and so he rocked his hips experimentally; keeping the stroke shallow and gentle.

Hawke rocked back, shuddering. It really had been too long since he had done this but the way Fenris was already moving with him was... words that could describe it simply didn't exist. He settled for pulling the elf down into a fervent kiss. They’d always communicated better that way anyhow.

When Fenris began to move in earnest, putting more of a measure of his strength into his thrusts, Hawke arched and groaned with joy. He could feel every bit of Fenris; the muscles of his torso pressing him down, his arms wrapped around his shoulders and beneath his back, his hips sliding between his thighs, and his blessedly hard cock inside him. And yet, there was no cursing, no swearing, no snarled orders to move this way or that. It was just.... perfect.

Unable to keep the kiss up, Fenris broke away, gasping several times to catch his breath. " _Liam,_ " he groaned, burying his face in soft hair as he braced his hand against the base of a nearby table and used it to give himself better leverage. With his arm steadied overhead, he could move faster; though still trying to go easy on his lover, but just the way Hawke gripped him tightly, his feet scrabbling for a hold on the rug as he hissed through his pleasure, drove Fenris almost to the brink of madness.

Hawke gave up on trying to anchor himself and settled for just getting his arms around Fenris’ chest, burying his face in his neck and sighing through soft, almost incomprehensible, words that encouraged his lover to go faster, to take him just a little harder. He was nearly there. 

Fenris could feel it now as well. He was still so unaccustomed to the feeling of being inside another body; it had brought him to the edge almost embarrassingly fast. Hawke’s words and insistent caresses had also certainly not helped the matter. But suddenly, it occurred to him that maybe Hawke would want some attention too, and he pushed his hand a little awkwardly between the two of them to grab him and begin stroking him in time to his thrusts. It was something that had always worked for him anyway.

Hawke managed a throaty moan that might have had Fenris’ name in it somewhere and tightened his hold on his lover’s shoulders, nails digging in a little deeper than either of them would have approved of under other circumstances. The oil had also done its work; leaving the both of them surrounded in heat, light, and friction.

"Liam…I’m…I can’t…" A starburst of colors exploded behind Fenris’ eyes in a brilliant and dizzying display, and it was all he could do to keep moving his hand along his lover’s need as he came. The bright flashes racing across his vision also then swept down the lyrium markings on his body, blending the warm glimmer of the room with the sharp radiance of his completion. His release tore through him as the pleasure finally broke and Fenris was left momentarily senseless as his body seized to a standstill, spilling helplessly into the man beneath him.

Hawke was very glad he'd managed to keep his eyes open. Watching Fenris’ face as climax overtook him was like nothing else in his life; and more than enough to push him over the edge with a moan that bordered on a cry.

Fenris stayed taut, his body rigid and trembling for a few moments more before collapsing onto the mage in a boneless heap, panting erratically. Moments later, he snuggled down, almost self-consciously, into Hawke’s broad chest as soon as he felt his lover’s arms engulf his upper body. The fact that Hawke was taller than him, and somewhat larger overall, allowed Fenris to feel completely enveloped despite the fact that he was still laying completely over top of him.

“Hawke?” He started.

“Nnnn.” Came the relaxed response. “Hush. That was wonderful. Don’t second-guess yourself. Just enjoy where we are right now.”

Fenris smiled and allowed Hawke to slide him backwards and off of his body before rolling them both onto their sides. He remained solidly in the mage’s embrace, however, and even chuckled lightly when he felt Hawke toss a leg over his in order to pull him closer again. From there, they lay in contented silence; touching lovingly from time to time and murmuring silly words to get a smile or a laugh out of the other.

As the fire died down, Hawke was quick to move them onto the large divan nearest the hearth, beneath one of the large blankets he’d strategically added to the room in anticipation of just something like this. Fenris was never quite completely comfortable naked for long periods of time, so he was happy to milk the moment for as long as his lover allowed. And strangely, allow it he did; drifting lazily between sleep and awake, folded into the mage’s chest and cocooned in layers of wool that smelled of cinnamon and evergreen.

“Hawke?” He tried again.

“Yes, Fen?” Hawke finally replied.

“So, what’s in the other boxes?”

Hawke snickered. “You’ll just have to wait until tomorrow morning to find out, won’t you?”

“Hm. Alright.”

********

A few feet away, the scene reflected in a shard of crystal tied on a ribbon was surrounded with the indistinct glow of uncommon magic. Hawke, his chin resting on the top of Fenris’ head, staring down at the flickering embers with a look of tender devotion. Stroking the elf’s back with absent-minded fingertips. Fenris, his face turned to rest on Hawke’s chest, right where he could press his ear to the sound of his lover’s heartbeat and his hand idly playing with the edge of the blanket tucked around them. A Winternight tree, twinkling with candle-lights and glass, standing watch over them both, in a house where the snow and the wind could do nothing to breach the walls but with a few taps at a frosty window. 

Unbeknownst to them, even as they quieted into sleep, the image in the crystal did not fade. It did not fade when the fire at last went out and the deepest part of the night plunged the world into unbreakable darkness. It did not fade the following day, either; when Fenris was to discover that Hawke had seen fit to gift him with all manner of things a slave could hardly have dreamed about. Rather, the moment was held there, in perfect repose; where it would always be… should it ever be needed again.


End file.
